


Pure Distraction

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 2x3 club, M/M, PWP, Post-Canon, Preventers things, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: After his mission debriefing, Duo desperately needs to be distracted. And Trowa Barton is the perfect solution.





	Pure Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



A/N: For Kangofu-CB. Thank you for all the late nights. I would literally be dead without you.

 

A/N2: Always thank you to Ro for beta reading and editing. You are phenomenal and generous and make all the difference.

 

Warnings: language, sexy times, angst???

 

Pairings: 2x3, 1x2, 4x5

 

_ Pure Distraction _

  
  


“We’ve looked over your report, and while you’ve gone into excessive detail regarding some things, such as your opinions on the local Preventers branch and the alternative intelligence-gathering methods you prefer, you have left out quite a bit of essential information.”

 

Duo, who had been sitting in the debrief room for two hours at that point, glared across the table at the man who, if he didn’t have a name tag over the breast of his immaculately-pressed uniform, would be as nameless and indistinct to Duo as the rest of the paper-pushers in Preventers HQ, just barely refrained from rolling his eyes.

 

“Really, Agent Abramson?” He confined himself to just three words, but he was proud of himself for the amount of sarcasm and disrespect he managed to inject.

 

Abramson frowned, clearly not as idiotic as some agents Duo had encountered.

 

“Yes, really, Agent Maxwell.”

 

“Such as?” Duo was willing to bet Abramson had a comfortable life, probably had pets and plants to water. Probably had television shows he liked to watch. 

 

Duo hoped he could disrupt that comfortable life as much as possible, considering how much Abramson was disrupting  _ Duo’s _ life. The entire debriefing had been one insinuation after another about Duo’s skills and choices while on the op, and he was, quite frankly, fucking over it.

 

“Such as why you felt it was necessary to interfere with the branch chief’s interrogation of the suspects.”

 

Duo leaned back in his chair and fiddled with the empty paper cup on the table between them.

 

It had been filled with water when he entered. 

 

There had been no offer of a refill once he emptied it.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yes,” Abramson said between gritted teeth. “Do you have any explanation for your actions? Not only did you interfere with the interrogation, but you injured the two agents who removed you from the premises. One of them had to be hospitalized.”

 

Duo looked up and frowned.

 

“Only one?”

 

Abramson looked unsure of how to respond to that.

 

“Well?” The man prompted after straightening his tie and adjusting the glasses on his nose. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

Duo snorted and rolled his eyes. He spared a glare at the camera recording the proceedings. He doubted Une was watching the live feed, but he knew she reviewed the debriefing videos, especially  _ his _ debriefing videos.

 

“Sure.” Duo leaned forward and put his forearms on the edge of the table. “I ‘interfered’ as you put it because Chief Song broke ESUN Accords 9A, 17F, and all sections of 23 and 47.”

 

Abramson scowled in confusion, and Duo had to force himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 

“Those,” Duo said slowly, “are the Accords that specifically address the treatment of prisoners of local, international and ESUN forces.”

 

“And you just happen to have  _ those _ Accords memorized?” Abramson scoffed.

 

“I have  _ all _ of the Accords memorized,” Duo sneered. “But let’s just say those are of particular interest to me.”

 

Abramson was still frowning.

 

“So you’re alleging that the branch chief of one of our most major Preventers branches broke ESUN Accords. That isn’t something we can easily ignore.”

 

“Yeah? Good. I’d be delighted to testify in the formal inquest.”

 

“Chief Song has held that position for the last seven years, and he gets  _ results _ with his methods.”

 

“You know who else got results with their methods? OZ, the Alliance. White Fang. I’ve got some scars, if you want to see the results first-hand?”

 

Abramson looked a little green. He shuffled the papers in front of him, adjusted his glasses again, and then cleared his throat.

 

“And your use of excessive force against fellow agents?”

 

“Agents who I have to assume will be brought up on the same charges, or at the very least, on charges of aiding and abetting Agent Song’s willful mistreatment of an ESUN citizen?”

 

“Agent Maxwell, if you won’t cooperate with me, how am I supposed to help you?”

 

Duo snorted.

 

“I’m cooperating just fine. But what, exactly, do I need your help with?”

 

Abramson sighed, and for a moment, lifted his eyes heavenwards.

 

“Agent Maxwell, you might not respect me, or my position in this organization, or my past as an officer in the Alliance, but Director Une does.”

 

Duo hadn’t known he was ex-Alliance. He should have guessed, though. 

 

“Contrary to popular belief,” Duo drawled, “I don’t actually have all of your serial numbers memorized. If I didn’t meet you face to face, then I don’t know who you were. Unless you want to give me specific details about your service? Might help jog my memory in case our paths crossed.”

 

Duo caught Abramson’s eyes, holding his gaze while he allowed himself a slow, sharp smirk.

 

Abramson looked away first.

 

“Agent Maxwell, pending further investigation into the incidents surrounding your mission, you are being placed on administrative leave, with pay.”

 

“Excuse me?” Duo exploded.

 

“I believe your hearing is in excellent condition, Agent Maxwell, at least according to our records from your last physical. I’m sure you heard me.”

 

Duo grit his teeth and glared.

 

Abramson shuffled his papers, nodded, and stood.

 

“I, or someone on my staff, will be in touch after we’ve begun our investigation. In the meantime, you have two days to make an appointment with one of our staff therapists. Any progress you make in that regard will, of course, be considered in Internal Affairs’ final recommendations.”

 

Wisely, Abramson retreated before Duo had a chance to respond.

 

Five minutes later, Duo left the debriefing room, merely arching an eyebrow at the agents waiting outside the room and their looks of horror at the destruction he had left behind.

 

It could have been worse, Duo couldn’t help but think as he glanced back at the chaos. After all, Heero had managed to put a chair through the two-way mirror on the wall of the second floor debriefing room. 

 

When Duo had thrown the chair just now, it had bounced off and landed back on the floor with a disappointingly soft thud.

 

The camera, dangling from the wires in the corner, was a little more satisfying.

 

Duo shoved past the agents and stalked down the corridor, feeling his anger build with every step.

 

By the time he made it back to his desk on the fourth floor, Duo’s anger had solidified into rage, and it strummed through his blood, pounding through his heart and making Duo very nearly see red.

 

He forced himself to sit down at his desk, forced himself to clench the leather armrests and draw in several deep breaths and release them, trying and failing to emulate the meditation techniques that Quatre had taught Wufei. 

 

He failed.

 

Meditation wasn’t what he needed.

 

He needed…

 

He needed to fight. Or to fuck.

 

Duo booted up his computer, drumming his fingers against his desk impatiently while he waited to pull up the field agent status files.

 

He looked for Wufei first. Wufei was always good for a fight - verbal or physical - and Duo was feeling particularly in need of extreme physical exertion. A long sparring match with Wufei was  _ exactly _ what he needed, the perfect outlet to vent his aggression.

 

_ Agent Chang Status: In the Field _

 

Fuck. So much for that.

 

Speaking of…

 

Duo typed in Heero’s name. If he couldn’t spend a few hours getting bloody and sweaty, then he’d settle for sweaty and well-fucked.

 

Heero had always been Duo’s go-to for sex - the man Duo trusted most, and one of the only men who never questioned the fact that Duo didn’t want a relationship, didn’t, couldn’t trust himself with anything more complicated than sex. Heero didn’t question it, and he didn’t push the issue. In fact, he seemed even more content with their fuck-buddy status than Duo was.

 

_ Agent Yuy Status: In the Field _

 

Double fuck.

 

Or, more accurately, zero fucks.

 

Zero fucking fucks.

 

Duo leaned back in his chair and considered his options.

 

There was that recruit who kept fluttering his eyelashes at Duo in the mess hall. Smith? South? Scully? Something like that. 

 

The last time the guy had tried to flirt with Duo, Trowa had been sitting with him, had snorted derisively as the guy commented on how much he admired Duo’s technique on the firing range, had muttered under his breath that the recruit really didn’t want Duo to treat his dick like a Browning. 

 

Duo frowned and sat up.

 

Trowa. 

 

Where  _ was _ he?

 

_ Agent Barton: Re-certification Pending _

 

Right. Trowa had been injured in a field op six months ago, and had been saddled with desk duty and recruit training while he recovered from knee surgery.

 

Which meant, Trowa was here. In Brussels.

 

Duo considered it, considered Trowa.

 

He didn’t want to fight with him. God only knew how quickly  _ that _ would turn awful. 

 

But sex…

 

Trowa was hot, full of smirks and droll comments, innuendo and off-hand flirtations that usually left Duo staring at him while Trowa sauntered away.

 

Duo had thought about it, over the years, what it would be like to take his comrade for a ride. But he had always hesitated, had always felt that he and Trowa had had to work their asses off to get past their prickly past and develop an actual friendship, and as easily as Trowa could compartmentalize damn near everything in his life, Duo frankly wasn’t sure that  _ he _ could.

 

As Duo sat there considering his options, his email pinged.

 

He opened up the inter-office email server and immediately scowled as he read who had sent it.

 

_ Abramson _ .

 

The subject line didn’t help matters.

 

_ Instructions regarding your suspension. _

 

Suspension, Duo couldn’t help but think, was slightly different than  _ leave _ .

 

Well. 

 

Fuck this.

 

Or rather, fuck  _ him _ .

 

Duo logged off of his computer, gathered the spare knife, gun and three passports he kept stored in his desk and the go-bag he kept under it, and went in search of Trowa.

 

It was still the middle of the afternoon, and Trowa, unlike most field agents when they were assigned to HQ, worked until early evening or later every day.

 

Sure enough, Duo found Trowa glaring at a stack of papers on his desk, sifting through them and shaking his head, and then typing up notes on his computer.

 

The other man had to see Duo approaching, but even when Duo perched himself on the edge of Trowa’s desk, he didn’t bother to look up. Not even when Duo dropped his go-bag on the floor by the desk.

 

Unperturbed, or, more accurately, determined to salvage something from this fucking day, Duo looked down and flipped through the papers.

 

“Recruit assessments?” He gave a shudder. “Who did you piss off?”

 

Trowa flicked his green gaze in Duo’s direction, eyes roaming from Duo’s face down to the dress shirt that Duo had unbuttoned the top two buttons of, and then down farther to the sleeves he had shoved up his arms in an effort to  _ not _ punch Abramson when the man had had the temerity to ask Duo why he had chosen to destroy the weapons cache instead of confiscating it.

 

Trowa smirked slightly as he saw the tattoo on Duo’s left forearm.

 

A very permanent reminder to not get drunk and make bets with a guy who had bluffed his way into not one but  _ two _ enemy armies.

 

Eight shots of tequila, two lost games of pool and an hour in a tattoo parlor later, and Duo had a coin-sized, black and white replica of the clown mask Trowa had worn when he traveled with the circus during the wars. 

 

“It’s actually considered a promotion,” Trowa said as he reached out and yanked the papers out of Duo’s hands.

 

“Paperwork is a  _ promotion _ ? Remind me never to get one of those.” Duo gave a theatrical shudder.

 

“Gossip has it that there’s no danger of that happening,” Trowa murmured.

 

Duo scowled.

 

“Good news travels fast around here.”

 

Trowa set the papers down and turned his chair so that he could face Duo. Their knees knocked together.

 

“Want to grab a drink later?” Trowa asked him, voice pitched into something that sounded uncomfortably like sympathy.

 

Duo frowned.

 

“How about we go for a drink  _ now _ ?”  Duo suggested.

 

Trowa glanced at the papers and then back at Duo, the right corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

 

“What’s in it for me? Leaving work early - that’s risking a demotion, you know. I’m not sure a few crappy beers are worth it.”

 

Duo nudged his legs between Trowa’s and leaned forwards, bracing himself on the armrests of Trowa’s chair and moving into the other man’s personal space.

 

He saw Trowa’s eyes briefly widen and then narrow, saw Trowa’s gaze flick towards Duo’s mouth.

 

“What if I buy the crappy beers, and then I take you back to mine and we engage in some debauchery?”

 

Trowa smirked and stretched out his legs, the movement rubbing against Duo’s thighs and then lower, against his calves. Duo barely suppressed a shiver.

 

“Debauchery, hm?” Trowa cocked his head to the side and pretended to consider. 

 

Trowa had been the first one to tease Duo about ‘debauchery’ after he overheard Zechs Merquise of all people try to pick Duo up at the bar down the block from HQ that was the unofficial host to most Preventers’ drunken nights of bad decision-making. Duo and Trowa had been sitting at the bar, minding their own business and complaining about the idiots they had recently been saddled with as mission partners, when the Blond Baron sat down beside Duo and  _ tried _ to compliment him in possibly the most offensive way possible. 

 

After fifteen excruciating minutes of Zechs insinuating just how  _ good _ it would be for Duo to sleep with him and how  _ lucky _ and  _ privileged _ Duo would be, Trowa had casually leaned back against the bar and told Zechs that the only way Duo was going home with him was if Trowa came along too because they already had plans for a night of debauchery.

 

It had been a running not-quite joke between Trowa and Duo since, something they teasingly suggested, sometimes with inappropriate workplace touching to back up the invitations.

 

But Duo had never thought Trowa’s invitations were serious, and Trowa knew that Duo’s hadn’t been either.

 

Today, however, Duo was deadly serious.

 

“Tell me more,” Trowa suggested.

 

Normally, at this point, Duo would roll his eyes, would offer up some ludicrously complicated sexual position, and they would start debating the pros and cons and possible injuries.

 

Duo leaned even closer to Trowa, letting his nose graze Trowa’s cheek before brushing his lips over Trowa’s right ear. He could feel the other man shiver before he held himself completely still, as if Duo’s touch had frozen him in place.

 

“You. Me. No clothes. A lot of lube. An entire pack of condoms. I want to fuck you on my couch, bent over my desk, in my shower, on my bed, on the floor, against the walls. And I want you to fuck me against the windows in my living room, and I want to ride your cock while you sit on that piece of shit leather armchair you convinced me to buy-”

 

“It was on sale. And I helped you carry it.”

 

“It’s purple, Trowa. Purple leather. In my fucking apartment.”

 

“It certainly sounds like a  _ fucking _ apartment,” Trowa agreed, and Duo chuckled.

 

He pulled back, standing up to his full height and leaving Trowa’s personal space.

 

“Well, how ‘bout it?” Duo asked him.

 

Trowa’s eyes narrowed.

 

“You’re serious?” Trowa asked after a moment.

 

Duo nodded.

 

“About everything I just said. Except for the cheap beer. I’ve got vodka, gin and whisky at my place. Free and efficient, and no need to be dressed.”

 

Trowa frowned slightly, but then he suddenly sat completely upright in his chair and turned away from Duo, back to his paperwork.

 

“I’ve got work to do,” Trowa said.

 

Duo just stared at him.

 

“Are you- are you fucking kidding me? I’m asking you to take me home and fuck my brains out, and your response is  _ I have work to do _ ?”

 

Trowa didn’t look up, just turned his head away and started to type something.

 

Duo wanted to pick up the computer and throw it across the office.

 

And then he realized what a complete and utter jackass he was.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

 

He started to leave the office, but Trowa’s voice stopped him.

 

“Duo, I thought you were just joking. I thought- it was our joke.”

 

Looking back at Trowa’s face, Duo realized what an  _ idiot _ he was.

 

Of course. It had just been a joke. For two years, it had been their running joke.

 

Trowa had never given any indication that he  _ actually _ wanted to fuck Duo. 

 

Duo had to laugh.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, and then shook his head.

 

“Fuck me. I’m sorry, Tro. Yeah. It’s just our joke. It’s- Forget I said anything. Sorry. I just- This fucking mission debrief and- Wufei’s not around to fight with, and Heero’s away doing who the fuck knows what, and I just really needed to blow off some steam.”

 

Trowa frowned again, and looked ready to say something.

 

Before he could, however, the door to Trowa’s office opened and Abramson stepped into the room.

 

Duo’s eyes narrowed, and he felt his rage bubble up again.

 

Abramson looked from Trowa to Duo and scowled.

 

“Agent Maxwell, your suspension started when the debriefing ended. Did I not make that clear?”

 

Duo could feel Trowa’s eyes on him, the weight of his unasked questions heavy on Duo’s shoulders.

 

Duo glared at Abramson and willed himself not to say or do something that would get him thrown in prison or shipped off to Mars.

 

“Do you need an escort from the premises?” Abramson asked, sounding so pleased with himself for being able to issue the threat that Duo actually took a step towards him.

 

Abramson hastily backed away, and Duo grinned.

 

“Agent Maxwell and I were in a meeting,” Trowa spoke up. “I asked him to assist me with something before he left today.”

 

The lie refocused Abramson’s attention on Trowa.

 

“I see. Is it something to do with recruit training? I’m not sure Agent Maxwell is the example we want to be setting for trainees.”

 

“No,” Duo drawled, and then waved a hand. “We should round up some convicted war criminals to train ‘em. Since that’s where Preventers’ priorities seem to be.”

 

A muscle in Abramson’s jaw twitched.

 

Trowa, regrettably, jumped in before Abramson could say something that would inspire Duo to do something he absolutely wouldn’t regret for even a second.

 

“Was there something you needed, Mike?” Trowa’s voice was mild.

 

Duo turned to him, wide-eyed.

 

_ Mike? _

 

He was baffled that Abramson had a first name, but even more baffled that Trowa not only knew it - because of course he did - but that he would  _ use _ it. 

 

“There were a few reports I wanted to go over with you regarding the disciplinary incidents last week with recruits Tam and Rico. Since you are busy now, perhaps we could discuss them later - order in dinner?”

 

Duo narrowed his eyes at Trowa.

 

There was no fucking way. 

 

Trowa and  _ Abramson _ ? That sniveling idiot who didn’t give a fuck about the rules except as a tool to get his own way and-

 

“Sorry, I’ve got other plans. If you check with my assistant, I’m sure he can schedule you for some time tomorrow or the day after.”

 

Trowa’s face was blank, that same expression that gave absolutely nothing away that he wore when he was in an OZ uniform and ordering people to beat the shit out of Duo, the same expression he wore when he walked into the middle of a shouting match between Duo and Wufei and told them to stop acting like children, the same expression he wore when he wiped the floor with any and all of his recruits during hand-to-hand combat demonstrations.

 

Abramson nodded briskly, spared Duo another glare, and then turned on his heel and left.

 

“Don’t tell me you and that piece of walking-”

 

“No, of course not.” Trowa had already turned back to his computer, was already typing away, as if the entire interruption had never occurred in the first place. “Once a month, he drops by with the pretense of some work-related issue and tries to ask me out. I’m surprised he had the balls to do it with you sitting here contemplating all of the different ways to murder him.”

 

“Not all of the different ways,” Duo grumbled. “Just five.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

 

“Okay, six. Whatever.”

 

“You’ve been suspended.” It wasn’t really a question, but the way Trowa said it made Duo feel… not quite ashamed, but something. Something he didn’t want to dwell on.

 

“Administrative leave. With pay.”

 

Trowa finished whatever he was typing and logged off of his computer.

 

He turned to Duo.

 

“Do you still have that bottle of vodka I brought over last time?”

 

Duo nodded cautiously.

 

“Yeah. I haven’t touched it since you were over.”

 

“Good. Let’s go.”

 

-o-

  
  


Once a week or so, when their schedules allowed, Trowa came over to Duo’s apartment, and they spent the evening drinking and watching pre-colonial movies. Trowa had been the one to introduce Duo to the ancient media form, and Duo had been the one to offer up some of the whisky that Howard had absolutely  _ not _ smuggled to Earth from L1.

 

Over the two years of their ‘movie nights’, they had taken turns picking out which film to watch and what to drink. A few times, Trowa had drunk enough that he had stayed the night on Duo’s couch, and they had gone out for breakfast together the next morning.

 

Duo wouldn’t, under pain of death, ever admit that  _ those _ were his favorite nights. He also wouldn’t admit that Trowa coming over, drinking with him, watching crappy old movies and fighting over the popcorn bowl between them on the couch, was usually the highlight of any week. Or month. 

 

Wufei had suggested, once, that Duo pull himself together and ask Trowa out on an actual date. Duo had sucker punched him, and it had resulted in one of their more satisfying and certainly more bloody fights to date. 

 

By the time they made it back to Duo’s apartment, it was early evening, and the train was crowded enough that they stood side by side, swaying into each other with every stop and change in speed.

 

It wasn’t helping, feeling Trowa’s body pressed against Duo’s every few minutes - his heat, his fucking cologne, the solid strength of him.

 

Duo definitely wasn’t in the mood to go back and drink and watch a movie. His current mental state was more like - go back, drink, go out to a bar and pick a fight with whatever ex-OZ or ex-Alliance scum he could find.

 

Somehow, Duo doubted that was what Trowa had in mind, though they had done that once, years ago, and had had to call Sally to bail them out of jail.

 

Duo couldn’t help but smirk a little as he remembered that, remembered her lecturing them as she drove them home, remembered that he and Trowa had cracked up every time they looked at each other and Sally had deemed the pair of them impossible.

 

After unlocking his apartment door, Duo stepped in and kicked off his shoes, not particularly caring where they ended up. Trowa carefully stepped out of his own and set them by the door. Duo tossed his go-bag down as well and shucked out of his coat before dropping it on top of the bag.

 

Trowa watched him with a raised eyebrow, wisely staying silent. Though, with that expression, he didn’t really need to say anything.

 

“You want anything in yours, or just straight up?” Duo asked Trowa, walking towards the kitchen and tugging his tie off entirely as he moved.

 

“Ice,” Trowa said, not following him.

 

Duo pulled down two rocks glasses, filled them both with ice, and then removed the bottle of vodka from the freezer as well. It was Icelandic, the label in a language Duo absolutely couldn’t read, and Trowa had just shrugged when Duo asked him where it came from.

 

He picked up the bottle and glasses, and walked back into the living room to find Trowa already seated on the couch, legs stretched out and crossed ankles resting on the coffee table. 

 

Duo set the glasses down, filled them up, and passed one over to Trowa before sitting down at the opposite end of the couch.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said without preamble.

 

Trowa took a long, considering sip of his vodka before speaking.

 

“You want to fight or fuck about it, I know. But Wufei and Heero aren’t here.”

 

“But you are,” Duo pointed out.

 

He took a sip of his own drink, appreciating the cold slide of the expensive liquor down his throat. It barely burned, and when it nestled in his belly, he could feel heat start to spread throughout his body. 

 

“We don’t fight,” Trowa reminded him.

 

“No, we don’t,” Duo agreed. They both had the scars as a permanent reminder of just  _ why _ they didn’t fight.

 

“So you want to fuck,” Trowa concluded.

 

“Not if you aren’t interested. I’m not going to fucking force myself on you.”

 

“I never thought you would, Duo.” Trowa’s voice was low, and Duo was fairly certain it was the same tone that Trowa had used on the animals at the circus he had once traveled with. 

 

Great. Trowa was treating him like a feral cat.

 

Then again, Duo was acting like one.

 

And he felt like one.

 

“Look, if you don’t- It’s fine. I’m just not in the mood to sit here and talk or watch a movie or- I just need to  _ do _ something.”

 

“Sounds like you need to do some _ one _ ,” Trowa murmured.

 

Duo snorted a laugh and raised his glass in agreement.

 

He tossed the rest of it back, ignoring Trowa’s wince at the poor treatment of the expensive vodka, and set his empty glass on the table.

 

He reached for the bottle to pour himself another, but Trowa’s hand was suddenly there, on his wrist, stopping him.

 

Duo looked over at him, but Trowa’s only response was to tug on Duo’s wrist, guiding him away from the table and closer to Trowa.

 

“Tro?” Duo had to ask as the other man maneuvered Duo onto his lap.  _ This  _ went past their usual flirtations and boundary-pushing. By about a mile.

 

Trowa didn’t say anything, but he hooked a finger over the collar of Duo’s shirt and tugged him down, until their lips brushed together.

 

The touch was light, a tease, and Duo was positive that Trowa was  _ smirking _ .

 

Well, fuck.

 

Duo pressed forward, slanting his lips over Trowa’s and kissing away the smirk, teasing and caressing and tasting until Trowa’s hands came up around his back, one still holding a glass of vodka, and held him.

 

When Duo finally sat back, ass on Trowa’s thighs, and looked down, Trowa’s eyes were closed and his lips dark from Duo’s attention.

 

It was Duo’s turn to smirk now, and he reached behind himself to take the glass out of Trowa’s hand.

 

Trowa opened his eyes at that, and watched Duo set it down on the coffee table beside his own.

 

“It’s my only set of matching glasses,” Duo said as he leaned forward and pressed a short, nipping kiss to Trowa’s jaw. 

 

Trowa snorted, but his fingers tightened and dug into Duo’s back as Duo kissed his way towards Trowa’s ear and, finally acting on a desire he had harbored for years, sucked Trowa’s earlobe into his mouth.

 

Trowa made a short, sharp noise of pleasure.

 

“I’m offended you think I’m clumsy enough to drop a glass,” Trowa managed to say.

 

Duo traced the whorls of Trowa’s ear with his tongue, enjoying the tickle of Trowa’s hair against his cheek and the puffs of hot air on his neck as Trowa exhaled. He enjoyed Trowa’s hands, smoothing over his back to grip his ass, even more.

 

“I was kinda counting on the glass being the  _ least _ of your concerns for the next few hours,” Duo murmured. 

 

“I’m fully capable of multi-tasking,” Trowa said, but it ended with a gasp of pleasure as Duo bit down on his earlobe - just hard enough, apparently.

 

“Sure,” Duo smirked as he sat back and looked at Trowa again. His pupils were huge, leaving only a thin ring of green, and his cheeks were flushed and his lips parted. “Damn, Barton. Wrecked is a good look on you.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow, and his hands shifted up, away from where they had been kneading Duo’s ass. It was the only warning Duo had before Trowa deposited Duo onto his back on the couch and crawled over him, wedging a knee between Duo's thighs and looking down at him with such intensity that Duo gulped.

 

“Let’s see how you wear it,” Trowa growled.

 

Trowa, tactically-minded that he was, and evidently intent on showing Duo that he could indeed multi-task, started an assault on Duo’s mouth, sucking and nipping at Duo’s lips until Duo opened his mouth and the other man’s tongue plunged inside. Meanwhile, he used one hand to tug Duo’s shirt up and slowly glide his palm over Duo’s torso. His other hand ran the length of Duo’s right arm, until he came to Duo’s hand, and he linked their fingers together and positioned Duo’s arm over his own head.

 

Duo didn’t know if Trowa had guessed or somehow  _ knew _ that he had a thing for sort-of/almost being restrained, or that he liked having just a hint of pain with his pleasure, which Trowa definitely delivered as he curved his fingers to drag his nails over Duo’s pectorals before teasing at his nipples and pulling groans from Duo’s mouth. But if he hadn’t known before, he certainly knew  _ now, _ and had no qualms putting the intel to very, very good use.

 

“Mm. Not bad,” Trowa decided, when he sat back to admire his handiwork several breathless minutes later. 

 

Duo rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but Trowa shifted his knee, rubbing it against Duo’s erection, and Duo found himself groaning instead.

 

“Speaking of wearing,” Trowa said with a smirk, “didn’t you mention something about your apartment lacking a dress code?”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Duo managed to say.

 

Trowa tweaked Duo’s nipple, just hard enough to send a shock through Duo’s body and make him arch up into the touch and buck against Trowa’s thigh.

 

“You don’t play fair,” Duo said.

 

Trowa’s grin was predatory.

 

“You’ve known me for ten years - you’re just now realizing that?”

 

Duo had to laugh at that, and something in Trowa’s gaze flickered at the sound. He leaned down and pressed another kiss to Duo’s mouth. There was nothing teasing or challenging about Trowa’s lips and tongue this time, however.

 

Instead, Duo found himself responding to the slide of Trowa’s tongue over his, the caress of his lips, a little overwhelmed by the slow, sensuous intensity of the other man’s focus. 

 

Tried to respond, anyway. In reality, it felt like Duo was just along for the ride. Considering the circumstances and the damn near expert way Trowa was kissing him and still holding him down and caressing him, Duo was more than content to let Trowa take the lead.

 

Trowa started to undo the buttons on Duo’s shirt, slipping them free one at a time and pushing Duo’s shirt aside to expose more and more of his chest, until Duo’s torso was completely bared to the other man.

 

Duo writhed against Trowa’s hand, moaning into Trowa’s mouth as he dragged his short nails over Duo’s chest and lower to his abdomen, to tease under the waistband of Duo’s trousers.

 

“Jesus fuck, Tro. You’re such a goddamn tease,” Duo broke free of the other man’s mouth to complain.

 

Trowa pulled back just enough to look down at Duo and arch an eyebrow.

 

“You’re not enjoying this?” he asked, his eyes dancing with amusement, clearly already knowing the answer.

 

“I’m enjoying it just  _ fine _ , you sadist, but maybe we could move along to the fucking stage of the evening?”

 

“You’re still wearing too much,” Trowa pointed out, smirking, damn him.

 

“So are you,” Duo growled, and decided that, as much as he was enjoying having Trowa holding him down and feeling the other man’s weight over him, if he wanted to move things along, then he was going to have to do it himself. 

 

Duo twisted his wrist free of Trowa’s loose grip and used both of his hands to firmly push against Trowa’s chest, until the other man was sitting upright. Duo followed him up and then continued, bearing down on Trowa until the other man was on his back and Duo was above him, their positions reversed.

 

He didn’t bother with Trowa’s finesse, or take the time to torture him. Instead, Duo straddled Trowa’s hips and methodically unbuttoned his shirt, tugged the hem free of his trousers, and shoved it down Trowa’s arms and shoulders until he had the other man half-naked under him.

 

Duo had seen Trowa without a shirt before. Had, in fact, taken several opportunities to covertly admire the play of muscle across Trowa’s trim torso.

 

But Duo didn’t have to be covert now, and he didn’t have to restrict himself to just looking either.

 

He smoothed his hands over Trowa’s abdomen, smirking at the sharp inhale of breath from the man under him. 

 

Duo bent down and licked a path from Trowa’s neck, over his collarbone, and down to his right pectoral. He swirled his tongue around the brown, hard nipple there and then took it into his mouth, sucking and then biting down.

 

Trowa made a stifled, hoarse sound that sent a jolt of lust straight to Duo’s groin.

 

Hands threaded through Duo’s hair, tugging on the roots slightly, and Duo hummed in approval. 

 

Duo didn’t do well in relationships, didn’t have an easy time trusting people, and sure as hell didn’t feel comfortable exposing all of his wounds - emotional and physical - to other people. So, aside from the rare string of dates, Duo mostly kept to himself, mostly relied on having Heero around when he was feeling particularly horny or depressed. Every once in a while, he made the always-regretted choice of going clubbing and finding some guy to go home with. Without fail, those men viewed Duo’s hair as some kind of leash, something to  _ pull _ and command him with, and there were times when Duo didn’t mind Heero treating him that way, but he sure as hell didn’t want a stranger using his hair to hold Duo in place while he was fucked.

 

That didn’t mean he didn’t like having his hair touched, but over the years, Duo had established a hands-off rule for his casual hookups. 

 

And sex with Heero…

 

It was intense, it was a struggle, and it was all about both of them being desperate to empty the darkness within. It wasn’t about pleasure so much as release. 

 

Duo wasn’t entirely sure what he had thought it would be like with Trowa - he had years of fantasies built up - but he hadn’t thought it would be quite like this. 

 

When Duo started to work his way down Trowa’s torso, licking his way across the warm, hard flesh under him, Trowa stopped him and used his hands in Duo’s hair to gently guide his face back to Trowa’s.

 

Duo wasn’t used to this much kissing, either. Heero shied away from it most of the time, and Duo’s other partners were all over the place but, as a rule, wanted Duo’s mouth elsewhere on their bodies.

 

He gave Trowa what he wanted, kissing the other man, sucking his lower lip until Trowa was arching off the couch, clearly wanting more contact. As much as Trowa had taken the lead before, he now seemed perfectly content to open himself to Duo, to let him explore and plunder and tease out low sounds of pleasure and  _ need _ that had Duo’s pulse thrumming and his cock swelling until his trousers felt impossibly tight and he was desperate for more contact.

 

Duo worked his hands between their bodies and started to unfasten Trowa’s trousers, careful with the fly, and Trowa obligingly lifted his hips when Duo tried to pull them down. He pushed Trowa’s briefs down as well, exposing the other man’s groin and releasing his hard cock in one go.

 

With some regret, but unable to ignore his curiosity, Duo ended the kiss so he could look down and see what he had uncovered.

 

Trowa’s cock was as perfectly proportioned as the rest of him, long and thick enough to make Duo’s mouth water at just the sight.

 

He hummed in appreciation and moved down Trowa’s body, until he could brush his lips over the head, smearing the precum between them.

 

Trowa made a low, needy sound, and Duo flicked his eyes up to Trowa’s face. The other man was watching him intently, eyes nearly black and his face flushed.

 

Duo smirked and, maintaining eye contact, tasted Trowa’s cock. He swirled his tongue around the top, reaching out with one hand to smooth down the foreskin, and then he licked his way down and around the shaft.

 

Trowa made that sound again, and when Duo twisted his wrist, applying just a bit of pressure as he continued to hold Trowa’s cock, Trowa bucked up, hips rising and cock rubbing against Duo’s cheek.

 

He continued to lave at the shaft, running his tongue and teeth around it, savoring the weight, the firm smoothness and the  _ scent _ of Trowa under him. 

 

“Duo,” Trowa growled.

 

“You’re not enjoying this?” Duo had to ask, throwing the words back at Trowa.

 

The other man’s eyes narrowed, and Duo chuckled.

 

“Maybe you wanted me to do this instead?” Duo suggested before he guided Trowa’s cock between his lips, slowly taking him in.

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Trowa breathed, not quite a moan, sounding at once relieved and aroused beyond reason. 

 

Trowa clenched the couch cushions as Duo continued to swallow his shaft, sucking gently as he eased farther and farther down. Trowa was big enough that Duo would have to deepthroat him if he wanted to swallow him entirely, and while that held a certain appeal, Duo decided to put it on the list of  _ Things to Do Later _ .

 

For now, more teasing was definitely in order.

 

He pulled back, until only the head was still in his mouth, and then slowly went down again, running his tongue over the sensitive flesh, applying just a hint of teeth, and used his hand to stimulate the rest of the shaft.

 

“Fuck,” Trowa moaned. 

 

He seemed perfectly content to be at Duo’s mercy, and that was an interesting and novel enough thing that Duo felt his own cock swell even more.

 

Continuing with his slow, deliberate torture, Duo bobbed his head, alternating the depth, the rhythm, the suction of his mouth, until he could feel Trowa’s hips trembling under him, until the other man’s self-control seemed to be seconds away from breaking, and Trowa had his eyes squeezed closed and his breathing was harsh and erratic.

 

“I’m close,” Trowa panted. “Duo, can I-”

 

Duo was fairly certain what Trowa was about to ask, and the fact that he was  _ asking _ for permission tugged at Duo’s heart in a way that he didn’t particularly want to think about.

 

Instead, Duo tilted his head, relaxed his jaw, and took Trowa deeper, silently giving his answer.

 

One of Trowa’s hands moved from the couch to Duo’s head, fingers wide apart and searching as he buried them in Duo’s hair, gently scraping across his scalp before tangling in the strands.

 

_ Fuck _ . That felt so incredibly different than having his hair pulled, and Duo moaned at the unexpected pleasure.

 

Trowa made an inarticulate sound and his hips rose, cock thrusting deeper into Duo’s mouth and throat, and he came, shuddering and clinging to Duo while Duo tried to swallow his release.

 

Eventually, Trowa’s grip on his hair eased, and Duo slowly released him.

 

Trowa sighed and tugged on Duo, until their faces were level again.

 

“Thank you,” Trowa said, still flushed and his pupils still dilated.

 

Wrecked was indeed a good look on him. Duo found himself wondering why the hell they hadn’t done this before. 

 

“You’re welcome,” Duo said. He pressed a quick kiss to Trowa’s mouth, but Trowa held him there, opening his lips, and Duo met Trowa’s tongue with his own, sharing the taste of Trowa’s release between them.

 

Trowa moved his free hand, the one not combing through Duo’s hair, down Duo’s back. Trowa clenched Duo’s ass, squeezing and urging him closer, brushing Duo’s hard cock against Trowa’s soft one.

 

Duo groaned at the contact.

 

“Remember when I said I wanted to fuck you on my couch?” Duo pulled away enough to look down at Trowa as he said the words. He rocked against Trowa.

 

The look of hazy contentment in Trowa’s eyes vanished, the green irises becoming more intense and focused and- 

 

And definitely  _ not _ filled with desire.

 

“Or not,” Duo said hastily, and eased away, trying to take his weight off of Trowa’s body.

 

But Trowa held him in place.

 

“No, it’s fine. I just don’t-”

 

“You don’t like to bottom?” Duo guessed. He shrugged. “That’s fine. I like it both ways. And I  _ did _ say I wanted to ride your cock while you sit in that hideous fucking chair.” He grinned. “Why don’t we have another drink and then go for round two?”

 

But Trowa did not look any more enthusiastic.

 

Duo ignored Trowa’s attempts to hold him in place this time, and moved away, sitting up and putting distance between them.

 

“Tro, what’s going on?”

 

“I don’t know what to do, Duo.” Trowa wouldn’t look at Duo, was instead staring down at his own hands clenched into fists.

 

Duo frowned.

 

“You don’t- You’ve never had sex?” he blurted out the realization, and immediately regretted it.

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at him, lips twitching in a brief moment of bitter humor.

 

“No, I’ve had sex before. Twice. Just not- It wasn’t good. I don’t know how to do it  _ well _ ,” Trowa clarified, lips turning down in a grimace.

 

Duo snorted.

 

“It took me more than just two times to get it right. S’not like a skill we’re born with, you know? And I think we kind of missed out on the teenage fumbling around and figuring out our bodies and our hormones and shit. We were a little busy saving humanity.”

 

His words had Trowa drawing in a deep breath and slowly letting it out before the other man slanted a look at Duo under the fringe of his bangs.

 

“You don’t mind?” Trowa asked.

 

“Why would I mind?” Duo answered with his own question.

 

“Because this isn’t want you wanted - you just wanted a distraction. You just wanted Heero or-”

 

“I want  _ you _ ,” Duo cut him off. “I want you, Trowa. And I don’t care that you aren’t a sex god. Yet. I’m sure we’ll get you there.”

 

Duo smirked at Trowa when he saw the right corner of his mouth lift. 

 

“But,” Duo said as he stood up from the couch. Trowa’s eyes raked over him, lingering flatteringly on Duo’s groin before slowly sweeping up his torso and meeting Duo’s gaze, “I’m thinking we should save fucking on the couch for another time.”

 

Trowa arched an eyebrow at the purple chair.

 

“Bed,” Duo clarified, and held out his hand. “We’ll save the chair for later too.”

 

“You’re making a lot of plans for later,” Trowa pointed out as he accepted Duo’s hand up.

 

“Well, I’ve got this suspension - don’t know if you heard about that - so I’m thinking I’m going to have a lot of free time over the next few weeks. And you know what they say about idle hands.”

 

Trowa smirked down at him.

 

“So you’re saying I have to come over and let you have your way with me in order to prevent another war.”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Duo agreed.

 

He stepped closer to Trowa, until their bodies were pressed flush together, and tilted his head upwards.

 

Trowa’s mouth met his, and Duo kept the kiss light, letting Trowa take the lead even as Duo ran his hands down Trowa’s back and to his waist, enjoying the feel of him and the novelty of having Trowa naked and pressed against him.

 

He started to walk them towards the bedroom, gently steering Trowa backwards as they continued to kiss, pausing as Trowa almost tripped over the briefs and trousers around his ankles.

 

Duo helped him out of them, and then had to suck in a breath as he felt Trowa’s hands curve around his ass.

 

“You’re still wearing too much,” Trowa said, giving a squeeze that had Duo arching into him.

 

“True,” Duo agreed. He reached down and hurriedly unfastened his trousers, pulling them and his boxers down in one go before standing upright again.

 

Trowa was smirking as he looked down the length of Duo’s body, gaze hot and focused on Duo’s growing erection.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” Trowa said, his voice low and rough, and so damn sexy it was hard for Duo to even think for a moment.

 

“You’re sure? I really don’t mind if you prefer to top,” Duo assured him.

 

“I want that too,” Trowa said, and pressed a kiss to Duo’s mouth. “But later.”

 

“Now who’s making plans?” Duo teased.

 

Trowa reached out and smoothed his hand up Duo’s left thigh, over, and then through his pubic hair and to the base of Duo’s cock. He made a loose fist around it and slowly moved his fingers up the length.

 

“I started making plans a while ago, Duo,” Trowa said, his voice low.

 

It was the only time Trowa had ever spoken about the attraction between them, and while Duo was fairly certain Trowa had wanted  _ him _ for a while, and Duo had sure as hell wanted Trowa for  _ years _ , neither man had dared push the boundaries of their friendship before.

 

“Good,” Duo said, catching Trowa’s mouth with his own for a kiss. “You know how much I hate being bored.”

  
  


-o-

  
  


The End.

 

For now. Maybe.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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